


The Chaotic Custody Catastrophe

by Zyzyax



Category: Alex Rider - Anthony Horowitz
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Crack, Gen, Humor, Implied/Referenced Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:01:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24087766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zyzyax/pseuds/Zyzyax
Summary: Once again, there has been a collab fic in December-ish.Myself, Wolfern, Nightshade2412, Cuby18, Ally (FFNET) have all come together to write this puppy. Alex has to go to court to see who gets custody. All of our favorite contenders! No Slash. Mild Crack. Mentions of torture! Rated T to be safe. Yes, we know American judges don't wear wigs and British ones don't use gavels. Who cares?!
Comments: 4
Kudos: 60
Collections: Spyfest 2019





	1. Alex (by Cuby18)

Alex still couldn't quite wrap his mind around the situation he found himself in. It had been more than a month since it had started, but the whole business still seemed so unreal. Everything started with Jack telling him that she was returning to the States to spend some time with her family but that wasn't entirely unexpected, especially not with the way they thought her dead for months after Cairo. But it did open another can of worms. He still wasn't of age, and Jack leaving would mean that he would need an actual guardian, and while he was considering applying for emancipation, it didn't seem at all feasible with MI6 controlling all aspects of government and watching him like sharks to find the right moment to get him under their complete control, something that would get much easier with Jack out of the picture.

He was right in the middle of contemplating the different ways to either run away or fake his death when the doorbell rang. Imagine his surprise upon seeing a man dressed as a member of American Law Enforcement holding out an envelope for him to take. The whole thing looked pretty official, and when he opened it he almost choked. The further he read, the less he was even trying to hide his disbelief and he let his eyebrows climb higher and higher. Based on the letter, he was to appear in court, to address a case of horrible child mistreatment. At least that was the gist of what Alex as he still wasn't completely sure he wasn't just dreaming. Because really? CIA went to sue MI6 for child endangerment when they were active participants? Perhaps they had the same sway over the courts as MI6 did over pretty much everything in England? But still, they couldn't really expect MI6 not to retaliate in some way. And what was that second part about the custody discussion? It wasn't like any of them had any real say in his situation, especially since he was really starting to doubt the whole ''your uncle's will gave us the guardianship'' thing.

However, before he could actually voice any of the numerous questions Jack came to see what was going on and before he knew what was happening they were both whisked away into a completely unsuspecting black Mercedes with tinted windows. From there on there was a drive to the airport, quick boarding and they were in the air before either of them got a chance to say anything more than ''What's going on?''

Once they were on the plane, they were finally given the explanation. It appeared that Joe Byrne must have either found his conscience or got into a big dispute with MI6 and decided to use Alex to get back at them. At least that was the impression Alex got after half an hour of listening to how this horrendous injustice was discovered by their agents and how they immediately set out to right the wrongs in the name of friendship that many of the agents shared with Ian. Since Ian wasn't really a person to nurture any kind of personal relationship beyond what his work demanded from him Alex was pretty sure he hit the nail on the head with his conclusions.

However, he thought it prudent to keep it to himself, as he didn't really fancy arguing with the agents for the remainder of the flight. Especially since he could use the time for some planning – it might be his chance for emancipation, if he played his cards right. He was especially glad that he spent some time planning when they led him to the office of the social worker assigned to his case.

Her opening statement should tell him everything he needed to know.

''I know it might be a bit confusing for you, all this legal stuff, but don't worry. I'm sure everything will turn out alright once your family gets a chance to sit down and talk about how their squabbling isn't really in your best interest. I know all about competitiveness, especially between family members, but so far, I have yet to encounter a family that wouldn't put the child's happiness as their priority over their need to outdo each other, even if it didn't appear to be the case from the beginning.''

Here he attempted to interrupt her, as he was pretty sure that she had mistaken him for someone else when she continued speaking as if he wasn't even there. And her next words only managed to reinforce his belief that there was some mistake at work when she went on to explain the reasoning behind her belief.

''It is clear that your parents' death had a big impact on their lives – it appears that your uncle was the only one not consumed by his grief and therefore capable of taking you in at the time. And I guess there was some lingering resentment at work here as he tried to keep you isolated from your other relatives during your childhood. Perhaps due to the fact that he was left alone to grieve and take care of you at the same time?'' Here she stopped to write something down.

''And based on the information I gathered, there might have been some jealousy present between Yassen, your uncle, and Anthony? It feels as if they were all battling for your father's attention, perhaps even for Helen's… No, scratch that. It might have been true for your uncle, but not for your godfather and Yassen. Based on what I have seen there seems to be some unresolved sexual tension there. Do you know perhaps if they were a couple in the past? It would explain why they reminded me so much of people filing for divorce and fighting over every little thing just so the other wouldn't get it.''

It was at that point that Alex realized that no, he wasn't in the wrong room, it was just the person assigned to look out for his best interests that was batshit crazy and that he was completely screwed. At first, he wanted to correct her delusions, but once she started mentioning Yassen and Ash as a couple he gave up completely. It was one thing coming to a slightly different idea about what was going on based on undoubtedly carefully edited information that she must have received regarding the case, but this kind of delusion was simply unbelievable. Alex was so caught up in his thoughts that he forgot she was still talking until he heard the words ''family bonding, picnic and counseling''.

The only bright side, as far as he could see, was that he wouldn't be the only one to suffer. He could just imagine the faces everyone would make upon discovering that they were expected to play a family if they wanted to achieve anything. Although there was still a matter of Yassen's continued survival, especially since he seemed to be the only viable option for a guardian who wouldn't expect of him to put himself into danger, because he was ''the world's only hope''. Although, on further thought, that wasn't a bad idea at all. If all agencies wanted custody, it was more than guaranteed that they would put surveillance on anyone who obtained custody, meaning they would be forced to play by the rules, since just toeing the line would be enough for another lawsuit and another court case that they would definitely lose.

He was still deep in thought and didn't really pay any attention to his surroundings. That wasn't something he was prone to doing, but he guessed he was pretty safe with the number of agencies that were undoubtedly following his every step via cameras and also several trails that he noticed on the way to the office. Therefore, it came a bit as a surprise when he was whisked away into one of the rooms and found himself face to face with the Good Doctor. What followed was probably the most morbidly enticing case of bribery, if one counted the offer of Blunt's head on a silver plate as a bribe worth taking, something that Alex wasn't at all that averse to. The next few days followed a similar pattern until he found himself alone with Yassen, who seemed to be the only one without a pre-prepared bribe, deeming his offer of life without deadly assignment to be a good enough incentive.


	2. MI6 (by Wolfern)

"They have a point."

Mrs. Jones narrowed her eyes at the lawyer. "What do you mean, they have a point? We paid you to make sure they don't have a point."

"They do, though. And I'm doing this pro bono."

"Where's your passion then, if you're pro bono?"

"Non-consensual pro bono. The cuts to legal aid went through last Friday."

That silenced Mrs. Jones. "Well," she said eventually, "What are _our_ points, then?"

"We don't really have any."

"None?"

"Well, it's mainly because of Mr. Blunt, Ma'am."

"Just because he's Blunt doesn't make him actually blunt; surely he had some point."

"We can't really expect to gain custody when Blunt – with your approval – blackmailed an underage child into working with no payment – much like myself, I might add – in dangerous situations, and, knowingly, on several occasions, did not provide help when he subsequently required it."

"I did feel bad about it."

The lawyer sighed. She really looked as though she'd much rather be taking one of those all-in-one island resort packages Mrs. Jones had seen advertised on the corner. Did she really own nothing more…lawyer-ish…than the pink Hawaiian shirt she was sporting?

"And he tried to shoot me. Well, there was bulletproof glass and he would have missed anyway, but I think that makes us even."

"He only tried to shoot you because he thought you'd ordered his father's death."

"Which was a lie he was told by a terrorist agency," Mrs. Jones refused to turn her gaze to the aforementioned agency, sitting sharp and Hugo Bossed on the other side of the court. Even ASIS in the back had matching RM Williams. "Which he only got involved with because an assassin told him to." There. That was a point against Gregorovich, no? She straightened her jacket and entwined her hands in front of herself.

"He wouldn't have even heard of the assassin had you not used him in the first place."

"But we needed him!"

The inexorable gavel banged. "No private conversation!"

Mrs. Jones flinched her gaze towards the judge at the head of the room. She was reminded of the one time she had tried passing notes in class and been caught.

"Mrs. Jones, I understand you are currently representing the British foreign intelligence service, otherwise known as MI6?"

She sat up straight. "That would be correct. Our Chief is currently away –" hiding "– on urgent business, so for the time being Mr. Smithers, our Head of Technology, and I are managing the fort, as it were. And, um, this is our lawyer." She utterly, utterly refused to look at the heads of SCORPIA, who were snickering like she was back in primary school again for show-and-tell, with her holey tartan umbrella that had nothing on their brand-spanking-new electric toy car that even had flashing lights and made sounds. "Having had Alex with us the longest, we represent the most stable and supportive option for Alex's future guardians."

Her lawyer sighed again and checked her phone, and Mr. Smithers gave Mrs. Jones a reassuring smile, as though there was anything he could do about it. She wished he could. Switch off the power in the building, or set off all the alarms. But the fact of the matter was that this was about as escapable as an atom bomb exploding point-blank.

At least death from a bomb in close proximity would be quick.

"…Mrs. Jones?"

"Yes?" she startled.

"Is this true?"

Their lawyer had been speaking to the judge. Mrs. Jones hadn't listened to anything they'd said, and now the judge was looking at her with all the force of her secondary school teachers, combined. The wig wasn't just for show, it seemed. From across the room, she registered the SCORPIA representatives sitting entirely unmoved, waiting for her to dig her own grave.

She decided to hazard a guess. "…Yes, it's true." Lawyers didn't lie, did they? They only twisted the truth, much like Blunt did when trying to convince Mrs. Jones how necessary Alex was.

"You knowingly ignored calls for help from Mr. Rider, and blackmailed him into working for you?"

Well, that was exactly what the lawyer had said to her earlier. She didn't know why she had expected anything different. "That's… true, but –"

"Hardly stable and supportive," said Ethan Brooke. She pursed her lips at him with such vigor that had anyone reached in they might have expected to find a few coins.

"While it is true that we did not provide Mr. Rider with any method of calling for help on his first mission, we did provide him with such on his second mission." Smithers was finally demonstrating why he'd been invited to the meeting. Mrs. Jones smiled at the gadget master in relief.

"And yet when he did signal for help, you deliberately waited more than twenty-four hours in which to send help – despite having your personnel already stationed nearby."

Mrs. Jones could have cried. There was a sour taste at the back of a throat, so she took out a peppermint and placed it neatly on her tongue, savoring the cool burn as it trickled to the back of her mouth. It wasn't even her fault – she'd wanted to send the troops in immediately until Blunt had stopped her! It was all just so unfair.

"Still," the judge's throat cleared, "I understand that you were the one to give Mr. Rider his only weapon for that mission – the…exploding earring?"

"That would be correct," said Smithers.

"And this was under no orders from Mr. Blunt, and in fact, going against his direction?"

"Not directly. He didn't specify that I wasn't to give Mr. Rider such a… gadget. I merely did not gain approval when reviewing the other gadgets for the mission."

A certified genius. She knew it.

"And in future, of course, we intend to take all appropriate precautions with our assets." He cleared his throat and gave her an almost apologetic glance. "So long as our superiors allow it."

Mrs. Jones twitched. Well, if she was going down, then she'd go down fighting, on her own, just like in the sixth form against the monster known as Veronica.

"We're discussing Mr. Rider's custody, not his future missions," she said, squaring her shoulders.

"I should hope not."

"Look, Mr. Rider is a British citizen. As the only British applicants, in this case, we, therefore, have priority over Mr. Rider's custody."

A snort from the back of the room. "Didn't stop you loaning him out to us. Seemed like a pisser at the time."

Mrs. Jones had to stop herself rolling her eyes at Ethan Brooke. "As I recall, at the time it was 'recruit first, ask permission later'."

"Okay," Brooke held his hands up. "Don't get crook at me. So, we used him without asking. But that was because he landed in our waters after your mission sent him into space."

"Now you're just being obtuse. That was the CIA."

"Stop with the pissing match."

All heads turned towards the boy they were fighting over. "You're all the bloody same, anyway," he growled.

"Well that's not true," Mrs. Jones finally managed to say. "You've been with us much longer and I'd like to believe we have somewhat of a rapport now. After all, we are the good guys!"

"What – I work for you, and you don't deport me?"

"No –"

"I'm on my own unless you want something done?"

The judge spoke again. "Ah, that's right. As I understand, Mr. Rider also came to you for support when his friend's father was attacked at the behest of Mr. Damian Cray?"

That sour taste was back. Mrs. Jones took another peppermint. "That would be correct."

"And after disavowing him –"

"That was a matter of national security –"

"After disavowing him, you then dismissed him, knowing that he was going to investigate Mr. Cray himself?"

"That's true, but –"

"Ignoring the fact that he'd met the assassin, Mr. Gregorovich, who, as far as you knew, had a personal history with Mr. Rider's father and uncle, and did not have Mr. Rider's best interests at heart at the time?"

Mrs. Jones longed to scratch away the apologetic look the judge sent towards Gregorovich. "To be fair," she said instead, "We knew Gregorovich didn't harm him when they met again." It was that damned detective finding dirt on them, she just knew it. MI6 had hired a detective to investigate the other agencies for possible dirt to gain an advantage in the court, only to find that they were doing the same thing. Naturally, the next course of action was to hire a third detective to investigate the opposing dirt detectives but somewhere along the line the paperwork had been confused and their detective had only found dirt on the first detective. It was really all rather embarrassing when you untangled all the red tape.

Was that a smirk on Gregorovich's stone-like visage? How she longed to hate him. "The point of the matter is that MI6 represents Alex's own country, so we're as good as home to him –"

"I've moved around a lot," muttered Alex.

"And," she said, raising her voice, "as his first and longest employers, we represent a source of stability for Alex." As Deputy Head of MI6, Mrs. Jones was well aware that eye contact was vital for conveying sincerity, but she couldn't bring herself to look into Alex's eyes.

"Ah, stability," he said, nodding. "I can depend on you to consistently, reliably put my life in danger."

All the peppermint in the world could not erase this feeling.

The boy had no parents. His family had been taken from him. MI6 would grind him into dust… had they not already.

Tulip Jones made a decision – the Tulip Jones who had chosen to study a dual degree of Law and Engineering, after being told that Engineering was a man's job and that the best she could expect of Law was as a legal secretary; the Tulip Jones who had called Derek Smithers out on his disguise while recruiting him, who had agreed to keep it from Blunt, just in case. Tulip Jones who had independently arranged Jack Starbright's visa documents to be ready in an instant, should they be needed, who had compiled all the documents on everything MI6 had done relating to Alex Rider, to be sent to COBRA, or anyone else she chose.

"Well, then. As you feel that way… As Deputy Head of MI6, I'd like to rescind our offer of guardianship."

Well, that certainly put the blood before the leeches.

"Don't you want him?"

"He's your problem!"

"For God's sake, don't let Gregorovich have him!"

Tulip rolled her eyes. "Gregorovich is hardly the obvious choice here."

"What, you think Gregorovich isn't good enough?" Ash had stood.

"I think some of his decisions may be questionable, yes," she answered. "Why did he not harm Alex when he had the chance to? Why did he send Alex to SCORPIA? Because he thought they would be good guardians?"

"We do not appreciate your insinuation," hissed Dr. Three.

Gregorovich was frowning faintly.

Tulip looked towards her lawyer. "Do you think you'd be able to make sure Blunt doesn't find out what I've done in the records?" she whispered.

"Er…"

"I'll see what I can do to repeal the recent tax cuts?"

"…In that case, yes."

Meanwhile, the room had deteriorated into a mixture of hissed threats and loud overtures of civilized politeness that veiled much the same as the explicit threats, just much more obnoxious. The judge had taken to banging the gavel intermittently, as though attempting some sort of regular rhythm would restore order. Finally, they were startled into momentary quiet by the bellowing roar of "Silence!" The judge stared at them all, not a hair out of place in the wig, and continued. "The matter of Mr. Blunt's parentage is irrelevant to this court. Please remain focused on the matter at hand – namely, Mr. Rider's future custodian."

Ethan Brooke raised his arms. "Well for fuck's sake why don't we ask him who he wants, then?!"

With the eyes of some of the most powerful agencies on the world on him, the teen shrugged.

"You're the adults."


	3. CIA & ASIS (by Greensight)

_This_ , thought Joe Byrne, _should be pretty straightforward._

There was a general feeling of confidence in the air on the CIA's side of the room and for good reason. Byrne had helped to orchestrate this whole show, after all. The idea had been in the works for months: sue MI6 for child endangerment, then drag in an ordinary, unsuspecting American judge and persuade them to hand over custody of Alex. In a way, this battle with MI6 was inevitable; from the first moment Byrne met Rider, he knew that he wanted this kid in his employ. Byrne had made sure that the showdown happened on _his_ turf.

"Judge," he said, flashing a smile. "My name is Joe Byrne. I represent the Central Intelligence Agency. And I think this whole deal is pretty clear-cut, to be honest. We're obviously the best people to take Alex."

But, as the judge leafed through the case notes, their brow was drawn in an ever-deepening frown. After a minute or so, the judge sighed, took off their spectacles, and rubbed their eyes.

"This case is a lot of things, Mr. Byrne, but _clear-cut_ is not one of them." The judge gestured to the size of the case file. Byrne had to admit that from a distance, he might have mistaken the file for a handbound copy of _War and Peace_. Or a doorstop. "Please, Mr. Byrne, just present your case to me so I can compare it to the others."

Joe Byrne cleared his throat, trying not to let it shake his confidence. "What I mean is that Alex _clearly_ needs to be taken away from all this. You've just heard what MI6 put the poor kid through. Quite frankly, it's a mess. Alex needs a fresh start – and America could be that, for him. We could provide a safe haven – away from all of these lies, all this danger. Don't you agree that's what he needs?"

The judge inclined their head a little, looking like they were at least considering it.

"A safe haven would be ideal. But the United States is hardly fresh ground for Alex, are they? Didn't he already attempt to start afresh in California? And weren't _you_ involved in using him on missions as well, Mr. Byrne?"

Byrne fiddled with his sleeve. This was not going as smoothly as he'd hoped. On the other side of the room, he could see Ethan Brooke - that Australian asshole - smirking.

"Well, I won't deny that we've been, uh, helped by Alex in the past. And we're very grateful for that. But compared to what MI6 did—" Byrne cast his eyes out across the courtroom and met those of Alex, who looked as if he would rather be literally anywhere but here, "—Alex, wouldn't you say that we've treated you better than MI6, over the years?"

Alex let out a long-suffering sigh. "I guess," he said, but his tone didn't do Byrne any favors. He hoped that the judge would read his resentment as simple teenage boredom.

"Let's go back to the basics," said the judge. "Why don't you try and tell me exactly _why_ you're making a claim for custody of Alex?"

What was Byrne supposed to say? Yes, hello, please give me custody of this teenager because he is an invaluable asset, quite frankly the biggest weapon in Intelligence, and letting him leave the field would be tantamount to hanging the Mona Lisa in a gas station bathroom?

_Damn it_ , thought Byrne. Maybe this was going to be trickier than he'd thought.

* * *

A whole hour later, it was _abundantly_ clear that this wasn't going to be straightforward. What had begun as a respectful debate had since turned into an all-out catfight.

"At least we didn't recruit a fourteen-year-old!" Byrne bellowed at the MI6 goons on the other side of the room.

"No," Alex snapped. "You just _borrowed_ me. Like a rent-a-car."

Gregorovich laughed. He was the only person in the room who looked like they were enjoying themselves.

"Can somebody explain to me why the assassin gets any say in this?" Byrne threw his hands up. "I don't think anybody's actually explained that to me!"

Gregorovich rolled his eyes. "Probably because the _assassin_ has shown more concern for Alex's consent than any of the government agencies present."

The judge looked as if they were considering a career change.

"You don't even cover dental!" one of the MI6 goons hissed.

"You don't even pay him!" Byrne shot back.

"You _waterboarded_ him!"

"We didn't know it was him at the time!"

"Hang on," said the judge. "You waterboarded a fifteen-year-old?"

Byrne licked his lips nervously. "As I said, we didn't actually know that it was Rider when we…"

"So, you waterboarded a fifteen-year-old who you _didn't know the identity of_?"

"Shit," muttered the CIA agent next to Byrne, and Byrne couldn't help but agree.

Byrne glanced over at Alex, only to find that he wasn't there. For a second, he thought the kid had run out on them, but then he caught sight of him at the back of the room. Someone had brought along a dog, one of those golden retrievers that always look happy, and Alex was sitting criss-cross and teaching it to roll over. It was weird; he almost looked like a normal teenager.

"Who brought the dog?" he asked the agent beside him. "And why didn't we think to do that? Kids love dogs. Damn it."

"I believe that's a therapy animal, sir."

Byrne scowled.

"We're… we're not getting custody, are we, sir?"

"If you really need to ask that, Andrews, you shouldn't be in intelligence."

* * *

Meanwhile, on the ASIS side of the courthouse, a soft elbow in the ribs woke Ethan Brooke. The necessity of wearing dark glasses provided a few benefits, and being able to nap covertly in public was definitely one of them.

"How are things going?" he asked his assistant Amy, as she passed him a burger. (Byrne had chosen to have this custody battle in an anonymous American courthouse - inconvenient for the Australians in every respect, except that there was a Maccas right outside.)

"About the same as they were an hour ago, sir."

As he chewed his burger, Brooke let himself zone out a little, until his name was called out.

"... Mr. Brooke? If I'm not mistaken, you haven't yet made your case for why you want custody of Alex."

Brooke reached down to re-button his suit, then stood up, smiling in the judge's direction. He had a mental script planned out, and he ran through it now. His argument relied on the fact that ASIS had probably taken the least advantage of Alex (one mission with only mild blackmail was a drop in the ocean, compared to the stuff he'd experienced from MI6 and the CIA), and, crucially, they had the closest thing to a living relative.

"You see, Judge, Alex's parents themselves made Ash his godfather. Wouldn't you say that's a pretty big indication of who _they_ would want him to live with?"

"If only we could ask my parents themselves," Alex said loudly, "Oh wait, we can't - because Ash fucking _killed_ them! I swear you people are unbelievable."

"Look," said Brooke. "Whatever association Ash might have had with Scorpia - who are also sitting in this room, by the way, if we're going to point fingers - it was never fully his choice, and it ended more than fourteen years ago."

Except he was contradicted by a voice with an unidentifiable accent, coming from the far back of the room. "Nah, Ash is still on the payroll."

"That's one of the Scorpia representatives, sir," Amy whispered in Brooke's ear.

"We offer a very competitive pension scheme," they added.

"He also smokes," said a British voice. "Not a good influence for a teenager."

"Are you fucking _kidding_ me!" Alex cried. "There are literal serial killers in the room!"

A distinctly Russian-sounding noise of complaint. " _Contract_ killer, Alex."

"Still a killer," the British voice persisted, and Brooke recognized her as the lawyer MI6 had assigned to Alex's case. Poor thing; she was so clearly out of her depth. "Judge, if you send Alex to live with any of these - these _people_ \- I'm sorry, but quite frankly, you'll have blood on your hands!"

"Blood is not actually that difficult to remove," said Gregorovich. "Cold water works well."

A series of agreeable hums throughout the courthouse.

"Lemon juice works too," said one of the Americans.

"Or peroxide!" Amy added cheerfully.

The courthouse dissolved into a discussion of one of their shared interests – concealing evidence of crimes – and Brooke took the liberty to sit back down. He had a feeling the verdict wouldn't arrive for a while yet.


	4. SCORPIA's CLAIM (by Zyzyax)

Dr. Three surveyed the room with interest. He was about to present his case for the custody of Alex Rider. MI6 had been surprisingly lacking in their ability to twist the truth. Then again, they had just had budget cuts to their legal department. A shame, but what could you do? Alex was special, and not just because anyone who tried to murder him suffered a gruesome and unfortunate accident shortly after. I mean, really? How was MI6 not at all suspicious that their golden boy might have some tarnished edges? Not to mention, Alex really had excelled in assassin school. Julia and Winston had been shockingly wasteful and paid the price in full. The court case had caught them off-guard, but Three felt like that had treated Alex better than MI6 could. Let's be real, that medical care had been substandard, to say the least. He just recovered from a shot to the chest? Send him on a mission? What could possibly go wrong? Those lethal infections and possible re-tearings of the aorta? Three was appalled. At any rate, their lawyers had been suitably threatened and offered considerable bonuses if they won. SCORPIA had plenty of lawyers at their disposal. After all, they did have legitimate businesses scattered about. Plus, it came in handy for the rare custody cases they did end up poking about in. What could MI6 offer the boy that they couldn't? There was even a contract drawn up. The judge did seem a little exasperated. Three couldn't blame them. After all, they'd just listened to three full days of abuse at the hands of MI6, ASIS, and the CIA. The judge didn't seem entirely unreasonable. Yassen being declared a temporary guardian had been a surprise to some, but Yassen seemed perfectly fit to Three.

The judge looked annoyed. "State your case. On what grounds do you claim custody of one Alexander Jonathan Rider?"

Three perked up. "Alexander was under our care for just under two months. He had been tragically abandoned by his guardians and we immediately recognized his unique talents. We sent him to our premier boarding school, where he flourished. His grades went from C's to straight A's under the tutelage of our elite instructors. We also possess an on-site hospital-grade medical bay where we provide comprehensive medical care and a team of highly rated psychologists and psychiatrists."

The judge paused. "We have some questions about the actions of people in your employ."

Three paused. "Naturally."

The judge flipped through his papers. "It says here one of your employees, a Nile Griffen, attempted to murder Alexander on a rooftop and fell to his death in the ensuing struggle."

Three sighed and put on his best mournful expression. "We regret the experience entirely and have taken steps to prevent such circumstances from happening again. Nile had suffered a psychotic break and should never have been left alone with a child. To remedy this, we changed several policies. The first is that nobody under twenty-five is allowed to supervise children. We also hired more psychological staff and instituted mandatory check-ups on both a time and reported suspicious behaviors basis."

Three continued in the same grain. "We are also willing to offer Alexander grief counseling free of charge."

The judge paused in his paper-flipping. "One would hope."

The man cleared his throat. "We have questions about your suitability, however."

Three felt a faint twitch of anger. "Oh?"

The judge paused. "We do not see any source of stable income listed here."

Three could hardly admit he tortured people for a living in court. "I am a man of science. I teach part-time at a university and experiment to further the understanding of medical ethics relating to human suffering. I have several patents and a book that sells quite well."

The judge sighed. "I see. Why not take a steadier income with private practice?"

Three glared. "I find science more fulfilling."

The judge turned a few pages in his file. "Is it true that you killed people?"

Three raised an eyebrow at his lawyer. The man flinched. "That is irrelevant to the matter at hand."

The lawyer was earning his paycheck after all. "What about the Hippocratic oath?"

Three muttered under his breath. "How about I stab you in the throat, severing your connection to your brain stem."

The lawyer coughed loudly to cover up the threat.

After an offer of water, the judge continued. "Your lack of job stability does not cause us to have faith in your ability to raise a child."

Dr. Three gritted his teeth to hold back a more gruesome threat. "I assure you, my retirement fund would cover just about any expense."

The judge frowned. "You didn't submit all of your bank accounts to the court. Why?"

Three was glad that his lawyer could take this one. He gave the man an expectant look. "Dr. Three has accounts in several countries where obtaining such records would take longer than the time of this court case, including the time notice was given for."

The lawyer glanced at Ash and paled. Three was entertained to notice the man was afraid of Howell. The judge sighed loudly. "Very well. Can you give an estimated net worth at least?"

The lawyer thought fast. "Several million in liquid assets. Hard assets are to be determined."

It was actually closer to several hundred million, but there was no reason to make the judge suspicious. The lawyer made the mistake of glancing at Yassen, who gave him the infamous raise of an eyebrow. The man paled visibly and gulped. "It seems finances will not be an issue."

The judge took a sip of water. Three personally hoped someone had put some thallium in the man's water. It would probably take effect after the court case, but it would be satisfying to hear the man had died a gruesome death. "Moving on. In your documents, you mentioned that your two alternate guardians would be Dr. Eijit Binnag and Gordon Ross."

Alex seemed startled at that. "I believe they would make an excellent pair to raise Alex. Eijit is a lovely woman who enjoyed teaching Alex botany and Gordon would provide a great male father figure. Alex was one of his favorite students and they completed a research project together."

Both Ash and Yassen snorted loudly at that remark. "What exactly did Gordon Ross teach Alex?"

Three managed an offended look. "Really, now. Gordon taught Alex computer skills and military and weapons history."

It wasn't even a lie. "Can Mr. Rider demonstrate his knowledge of either subject?"

Alex spoke up. "Actually, yes."

The judge raised an eyebrow. "Well, go on."

Alex entered boring lecture mode. "The Karambit is thought to have originated in Sumatra…"

The judge interrupted Alex after a bit. "Okay, I've heard enough about Karambits to last a lifetime."

Joe Byrne was staring in horror at Alex and Ash didn't look any less pale. Dr. Three thought they would both be well-served by growing a spine. The boy clearly had a wonderful memory. Three privately wondered whether Alex had selected that weapon on purpose to unnerve Howell. The judge interrupted his thought again. "Did you enjoy botany, Alex?"

Alex shrugged. "I wasn't big on the theory, but the gardening was great. Plus, the flowers were gorgeous."

Byrne was openly blanching. Pathetic.

The judge turned to Alex. "Alexander Jonathan Rider. You are old enough to have your opinion considered. How do you feel about having Dr. Three as your guardian?"

Alex paused. "I would really prefer to be either emancipated or with Yassen, however, I think he'd be decent. He took an active interest in my education ever since I stepped foot in his school -"

The lawyer looked triumphant. The judge interrupted. Three was pleased that Alex looked faintly annoyed. At least he wasn't the only one. "I thought the principal was Oliver D'Arc."

Alex's mouth thinned. Three knew he was holding back one of his infamous one-liners. "D'Arc was the principal, however, the doctor served on the board presiding over the school and owns the deed to the property, hence it is his school."

Three wondered if Alex would consider a back-up career in law with them. "Continue with your previous statement."

Alex's eye twitched. Three had studied the tapes of him intensely to be able to read his body language. "He would make an okay guardian, but I think it'd be better with visitation. I'm hesitant to trust anyone with that company ever again because of the incident with Nile. To feel safe, I'd like someone to supervise, like Yassen. This is mostly my own psychological issue with the doctor's organization, however, and shouldn't count against him."

Alex continued. "It was pretty nice of them to offer me a dog, too."

Joe Byrne interrupted. "Isn't Yassen right there?"

Bang! "Out of order, Mr. Byrne!"

The judge sighed heavily. "Very well, we will take your wishes into consideration."

Somebody's temper finally exploded. "That's outrageous! He can't possibly be expected to be competent!"

Ah, the underpaid lawyer from the CIA. Dr. Three interjected icily in a tone that made most of the people from Scorpia shudder. "He was competent enough for you to send on yet another mission with the CIA last month, so which is it? Either he's sane enough for you to entrust with the security of the United States or you just admitted knowingly committing grotesque psychological abuse on an already damaged child."

The man retorted. "Oh really, I've heard horror stories from that assassin school you run."

Three gave him the evil eye. "Well, even if the baseless rumors are true, at least we didn't perform enhanced interrogation techniques on Alex on the word of a sworn enemy and terrorist."

Byrne snapped next. "Oh, excuse me, Mr. Interrogations Expert. We said sorry!"

Ash looked pissed. "Sorry? Sorry? There are some things sorry doesn't fix, you bleedin' bastard!"

Byrne's eyes flashed. "Why don't I finish gutting you like a fish? It's a pity Yassen left the job half-done, traitor."

Ash growled. "You can come and try, soyboy. I'll snap your neck."

Bang! The gavel and judge were ignored in favor of the argument. At that point, Tulip jumped in. "Really, Joe. You failed to mention this in any reports."

Joe flinched. "I knew you'd go nuts, Tulip. Besides Alex said it was fine."

Tulip looked deadly at that moment. Three recalled her career in the field fondly. "JOE BYRNE, IF YOU EVER PULL THAT BULLSHIT AGAIN, I WILL KIDNAP YOU, STRAP YOU DOWN, AND CUT OFF YOUR NERVES ONE BY ONE WITH A SCALPEL!"

Alex gave Yassen a shocked and amused look. Three felt a faint hint of amusement. "This is why we should get custody."

Ah. ASIS. They always did put their feet in their mouths. Tulip fired back. "NO, YOU SHOULDN'T, YOU AUSSIE BASTARDS! YOU NEARLY MAIMED ALEX WITH A LANDMINE! FOR NO GOOD REASON!"

Brooke raised an eyebrow and Marc Damon stepped in. "Right. How many fit military men have died in that SAS training you sent him through?"

Bang! Nobody seemed to hear the judge calling for order. Three cuts in. "Yes, all two weeks of it. If you were my employees, I'd have vivisected you by now to check your brain for the source of your incompetence. It's the only way you'd contribute anything intelligent to the world."

Tulip practically hissed. She graduated at the top of her class. "You had better keep your admittedly clean and well-manicured hands off of Alex, or I'll send an ICBM your way."

BANG! There were now cracks in the sitting of the gavel. "ORDER! I WILL HAVE ORDER IN THIS COURT! IF ANOTHER PEEP COMES OUT OF ANY OF YOU UNPROMPTED, I WILL HAVE YOU THROWN OUT!"

A dead silence followed. "Thank you."

The judge glared at them. "After that little display, you're all lucky not to have your claims thrown out. I wish anyone besides Yassen Gregorovich the best of luck getting custody. In the words of my father, shoot your best shot."

Several yells blasted through the courtroom. "NO!"

The judge looked vaguely puzzled. "We will now have a recess since some of our nerves are clearly frazzled."


	5. Yassen versus Ash (by Zyzyax)

"I object! Yassen Gregorovich is so far from a suitable guardian, he shouldn't be allowed to even own pets!"

Yassen resisted the urge to frown. He thought he was doing a decent job. Alex was well fed, attended to at least every six hours, and out of danger for the entire time in his custody. The judge looked...irritated on his behalf. He was already standing perfectly straight. "I believe I am _adequate_."

It was Yassen's usual deadpan. The judge seemed to agree with his sentiment. It silenced the intense protests of several members of the case. "Let's discuss your feelings towards Alex."

Yassen choked a bit mentally. He hadn't really discussed his _feelings_ on anything for his _entire_ adult life. "Well, overall, I like him and wish him to have a good life. I will defend him to the death, even if I occasionally want to strangle him for his impulsivity."

The judge raised an eyebrow. "Oh? When was that?"

Yassen gave him a glare. "He once skied down a double black trail on a modified ironing board. An ironing. Board."

The judge stared in shock. "Well, I'd be quite angry as well. Did he ever do anything else?"

Yassen almost gave the man a pitying look. "Oh yes, there were extreme sports, fighting four opponents at once, pursuing drug dealers instead of calling the police, and quite a bit more. I could go on, but I think you get the idea."

The judge looked horrified. "I see. Are you sure you can handle guardianship by yourself?"

Yassen stared at the man. "Absolutely. I believe the stunts were desperate cries for help. He hasn't pulled one for his entire time in my guardianship."

The judge looked relieved. "Not one?"

Yassen's reply was rather dry. "Yes, I imagine not being blackmailed into espionage or assassination jobs is doing wonders for his stress levels. The time frame would have been unhealthy even for a fully trained and conditioned operative."

The judge sighed. "I see. Are you enjoying your guardianship of Alex?"

Yassen refrained from puffing up. "I am."

The judge flipped through the papers a bit more. "Moving on to your standard set of questions."

"Do you drink Mr. Gregorovich?"

Yassen looked at the judge. "Never more than two standard and never outside of trusted company."

The judge shrugged. "Seems fine with me."

The judge glanced at the papers. "Your home with Alex was neat. Almost impeccably so."

Yassen shrugged. Alex had probably been taught the value of cleaning up. "I was surprised too. Alex has kept his room neat without a single reminder from myself."

The judge seemed puzzled but let it go. Teenage spies were guaranteed to have some quirks. "Mr. Rider, why do you clean your room?"

Alex shrugged. "I don't like clutter, dirt, or chemical toilets. I've slept in way too many filthy rooms."

The judge raised an eyebrow. "Chemical toilets?"

Alex sighed. "I was undercover as an illegal immigrant in hopes I would get trafficked for my organs. They locked people in storage containers, fifteen to a container, with one chemical toilet for the entire trip."

The judge stared. "It seems like that's a valid reason."

Alex was silent. "You may be seated, Mr. Rider."

The judge sighed. "You seem to be the most mentally suitable, so-"

The judge was interrupted. "I object!"

It was Howell. The judge's reply was dry. "And why, pray tell? He scored the highest on the psychological evaluation."

Howell smirked. "His parents died when he was twelve. What would he know about family environments?"

The judge gave the man a steely glare. "No need to sound so gleeful about it. I'm sure Yassen has studied existing research well and I've seen wonderful parents come out of terrible backgrounds."

Ash looked suitably chastened. Yassen interjected. "I would also like to add that it might help me understand Alex. Due to _dear_ Anthony's actions, Alex's parents died when he was one. I feel that I understand the _lack_ , unlike _Anthony_."

Howell continued. "He killed Alex's uncle."

The judge looked shocked. "Is this true, Alex?"

Alex looked troubled. "Yes."

The judge looked at him. "Then _why_ do you want him as your guardian?"

Alex shifted. "He's the least abusive one I've ever had. He's the only person who ever treated me like a person. Plus, he was the only one who ever tried to get me out of Special Operations. I'm sorry if that means I'm betraying Ian's memory, but above all, I believe he would have wanted me to be happy and right now happy means Yassen."

The judge coughed. "I have to ask you why. We don't allow murderers to become guardians of children."

"Do you have any good reason for shooting the man?"

The judge looked constipated. Yassen gritted his teeth. He was not about to admit he was being paid as a mercenary to protect a man committing acts of terrorism. "I thought his uncle was abusing him and may have overreacted. I have experienced such myself."

The judge looked at Yassen. "Is there any proof of this?"

Yassen glared. "Yes. Here are twelve separate complaints to social services from England, three from France, two from Spain, and one from Switzerland."

The judge looked stunned. "Why was this never investigated?"

Yassen paused. "My theory is that Ian Rider used his influence in MI6 and the government to prevent that from happening, along with several moves and vacations."

The judge rubbed his eyes. "We'll be looking into that later. If it's true, we'll be filing charges against MI6. And perhaps a class-action lawsuit."

The lawyer from MI6 paled. "We deny any knowledge of such a thing."

The judge gave the man a slightly feral grin. "We'll see about that. Moving on."

The judge turned to Alex. "What was your relationship with Ian like?"

Alex gave him a bitter look. "Distant. Cold. He was gone most of the time. We argued a lot in the last four years before his death. I was getting suspicious and he wasn't having it."

The judge paused. "How often was he gone?"

Alex twitched. "Out of a year, the most I ever saw him was three months."

The judge sighed heavily. "I see. How long has this been going on?"

Alex stood there for a good minute. "Since I was seven and we got Jack."

The judge closed his eyes and slumped ever so slightly, shaking his head. "No further questions right now."

Yassen mentally breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm considering giving Scorpia guardianship."

The Scorpia lawyer perked up. Yassen raised an eyebrow at him. The lawyer immediately paled. It was his patented warning look. Dr. Three interjected. "Yassen was basically adopted by Hunter, which makes him the closest thing to a family member Alex has."

Yassen felt exceedingly uncomfortable with that thought. He had never really thought about it that way. Ash interrupted. "But I knew him longer! We were friends since he started in the army."

Yassen arched a brow at him. "Yes, a friend that you betrayed to his _death_."

Ash snarled. "You're one to talk, Yassen Gregorovich can't even be your real name! It goes against Russian naming conventions!"

Yassen retorted. "I changed my name legally! Let's face it, you're so bitter about never being as good as John, you'd be a shitty guardian, _Anthony_."

Ash snapped back. "Bullshit, Yassen. I'd let him live instead of whatever strict-ass rules you have in place! He's sixteen; he should be meeting girls and going to parties, not university!"

The judge looked unimpressed. "I think Yassen should give us a description of their typical day together. _Sit down,_ Mr. Howell."

Yassen mentally wished a long painful death for Howell for perhaps the millionth time. "Well, Alex gets up, we have breakfast together, he goes to university to study biochemistry, comes home for lunch that I cook, goes back for afternoon classes, and then comes home to dinner on the table."

Howell was miming vomiting. Yassen supposed he did sound sickeningly domestic but sent Howell a death glare nonetheless. "That sounds good. Are there any arguments?"

The judge muttered under his breath about Yassen being nicer than their wife. Yassen spared a glance at the Scorpia lawyer, who was sweating bullets, before answering. "Not really. If one of us has an issue or question, we have a calm conversation about it."

The judge flipped through the records. "All of Alex's medical information seems to be in order. Good job."

The judge closed the packet of papers. "I have a question for you, Mr. Gregorovich."

Yassen raised an eyebrow. "Yes, your Honor?"

"Tell me why Mr. Howell shouldn't get custody."

Yassen drew in a breath. "Well, aside from murdering Alex's parents - Alex would have died with them had he not had an ear infection, attempting to betray Alex to his death with any opportunity he was given, dragging him on a mission with ASIS and the Indonesian special forces involved, allowing him to compete in an illegal street fighting tournament, and organizing for Alex to encounter a land mine that would have left him without a feet had his reflexes not been any better, there is the question of _dear Anthony's_ delicate health."

The judge coughed into his sleeve. "Delicate health?"

Yassen smirked and looked Howell directly in the eyes. "Oh, yes. You see, Mr. Howell suffered an unfortunate injury when he was working for Mr. Blunt at MI6. He took a knife to his internal organs. An injury that required multiple surgeries, twelve pints of blood, and quite a bit of several organs to be removed. Every _breath_ is pain."

Yassen paused for dramatic effect before continuing. "He takes pain medication, among others, every day. Anthony also smokes and drinks in amounts that I believe are self-medicating. He could drop dead at any moment from the liver and stomach damage. Furthermore, taking a combination of painkillers, booze, and nicotine is inadvisable and _certainly_ inappropriate for children and teens to view."

The judge stared. "I would certainly think not."

The man paused. "Why do you think Mr. Howell wants custody of Alex?"

Yassen looked at the judge. "There are really only two possibilities, your Honor. Howell either wants to take Alex and hand him over to his enemies to finally removed the last trace of the man he envied so much he intended to murder the man's whole family or Howell has had a change of heart and wishes to raise Alex as some form of atonement. In either case, I believe he is unsuitable. The first reason should be obvious. As for the second case, I believe it would not be emotionally healthy for either of them. Anthony would have to battle his envy of John and the guilt attached to his death and Alex would resent the lack of clear parental authority and being a so-called charity case. In either case, the man is being entirely selfish because he would be using Alex to complete his own emotional well-being instead of focusing on raising Alex as a productive member of society."

The judge stared at Yassen. What? He could speak in paragraphs if he wanted to. It was just not often he did.

"Thank you, Mr. Gregorovich. Mr. Howell, why don't you speak your case?"

Yassen sat down and smirked at the man known as Ash. Anthony stood. "First of all, how do we know he's any better about the meds? Yassen got shot in the lungs, as I recall."

The blond man purred back at him. "Would you like to do a drug test, Howell? Only one of us here is an opioid addict, I assure you."

Ash glared at him. "They're medically necessary, you ass!"

Yassen leveled a smirk at him. Ash wanted to punch it off his face. "The point still stands, Howell. You cannot go off opioids without experiencing withdrawal, you've been on them for over thirteen years. They slow your reflexes. Additionally, the amount of booze combined with the painkillers that you drink to fall asleep at night would render you dead to the world. Alex might accidentally burn down the house and you wouldn't wake, not even if you were on fire."

Bang! The judge stopped them from arguing further. "This is _my_ court and _I_ ask the questions here. Mr. Gregorovich, hold your peace."

Yassen smirked and sat down. "Apologies, your Honor."

Ash continued. "I also object to Yassen on grounds of Alex's emotional well-being. Even if we ignore the fact that he _murdered Alex's uncle_ , there is still the fact that he'd a complete fucking sociopath who murders people for money."

The judge interrupted before Yassen could. "Objection! Mr. Gregorovich has provided paperwork and more than enough evidence of his career as a doctor."

Ash was calling bullshit on that one. "With what specialty?"

The judge flipped through some papers. "Combat and frontier medicine. Mr. Howell, baseless accusations will get you nowhere and look badly upon your case."

The judge paused. "As for sociopathy, you scored higher in sociopathic traits than he."

Ash figured Yassen had lied his pretty little ass off on that psych eval, then. "Are there any further questions, comments, or concerns either of you two want to bring up?"

Ash and Yassen glared venomously at each other and snapped out their answer at the same time. "No."

* * *

The lawyer from MI6 watched the two Scorpia assassins argue over who was the least fit guardian with a sigh. They were both unfit and should have been laughed out of court in his opinion. They were both exceedingly petty, argumentative, and determined to portray the other in the worst light. He'd watched the way they eyed each other. The fiery burning hatred. The way Yassen had ever-so-gleefully brought up Howell's devastating, career-ending injuries was disturbing. The way Howell had brought up the deaths of Yassen's parents with a terrifying smile. They were like a pair of ravenous wolves circling a lamb. The lawyer had trouble believing the gangly blond teen could hurt more than the occasional cockroach. Really, Alex had probably done it all by accident and was now in dire need of therapy and stability. The verbal tearing at each other had probably reopened old wounds they both had. The lawyer would swear those two would out-and-out fucking fight to the death if they were left alone for any period of time. The man shuddered as he thought of the damage they might do to each other. Yassen would win, though. The assassin had brought up excellent points about Howell's drug use. Opioids _did_ slow your reflexes and dull your senses. Plus, Cossack had political support from Scorpia that Howell did not. John/Hunter had been popular, despite everything. Ash had not been looked upon kindly for blaming him for injuries he'd accepted were a risk when he joined MI6. Ash just didn't quite have the same reputation, either. Yassen was widely known as a complete and utter monster in both the sniping and hand-to-hand. They'd lost so many agents to Cossack. Back to Howell and Gregorovich. They were on the same fucking side, so why the hell were they ripping each other to shreds verbally (and both clearly wished it was physically)? They actually acted almost like...parents arguing in court. Immature parents who hated each other arguing in court. It actually kind of fit. It seemed more...personal than a professional rivalry. Could it be? The lawyer couldn't think of anything else that fit... Cossack and Ash must be bitter exes. Very bitter exes.


	6. Epilogue (by Nightshade2412)

"So," Alex said, as they stood on the steps of the courthouse. "I guess this is it, then."

"I suppose it is," Yassen agreed.

Alex wasn't really sure how he felt about it yet. Not much had changed on the surface, except that the arrangement was suddenly permanent in a way he'd never let himself think it might be, whether for better or for worse, he wasn't sure. Yassen had always been his top choice - best of a bad bunch, but still - but being made to think about it had brought up feelings that he'd been trying to ignore for the past weeks.

The man who'd killed his uncle, who'd thrown him to the bull, who would've cut Sabina's finger off without a second thought - or the man who'd saved his life, more than once, had practically sacrificed his own to do so? Sometimes, Alex looked at him and felt a swell of red-hot fury, or else wanted to spit _you're not my dad_ at him, the words sitting in his mouth like the stinging taste of bile. But here, in the sun, the sounds of the city surrounding them but not coming too close, all he could feel was the wash of relief.

He looked over his shoulder, where some of the most powerful people in the world were following them out (not that any of the passers-by knew it), their defeat showing in different ways. He saw Byrne staring after him balefully, and shivered under 's calculating stare.

"Do you think they'll leave me alone, now?" he asked.

"Do you want them to?"

"I- _yes._ That's all I've wanted for- since it began."

"Ok," Yassen said, and not for the first time Alex wished he would color his voice with actual emotion sometimes because Yassen definitely had more thoughts on the matter than he was letting slip.

"Ok?"

"Yes. If you want a normal life, you can have it. I'll make sure they don't come after us if they even dare to try."

"Just like that?"

"Yes, little Alex," Yassen assured him, exasperated but - and Alex knew he wasn't imagining it - fond.

"What about your job with Scorpia? You don't mind giving that up?" Alex didn't know exactly how much Yassen had been earning, but he knew it was a lot.

"Even _if_ they were prepared to take me back without… retiring me in their own, special way, I'm not sure I would want it. For one thing, I'm getting too old. For another-" Yassen caught his gaze and held it. "Throughout most of my career, every kill I've made has been easier than the last. Then, there came a point when they started getting harder again."

Alex swallowed. It was weird, how little Yassen's past seemed to matter in everyday life, but then suddenly he was reminded of it and - what was he _doing_ , getting adopted by a contract killer? If the public knew what Yassen had done, they'd be calling for his head, and his little change of heart wouldn't make any difference. And what did that say about Alex?

He caught Mrs. Jones' eye as she passed, and received a curt nod which he didn't return. Instead, he turned to Yassen and asked, "What now?"

"How about ice cream?" Yassen said.

Alex blinked, and then he let a smile grow. "Yeah. Ice cream sounds good."

* * *

They didn't fly back to London immediately. Instead, they set out the next day on a road trip to Washington DC. Alex spent long hours just watching the countryside flash by, or singing along to the radio to irritate Yassen and begging him to stop for increasingly cheesy roadside attractions, just to see if he would cave.

Which he did. Every single time.

Somehow, maybe even without him realizing it, making their arrangement official had caused Yassen to relax. Alex still didn't know many personal details about the assassin - the man had spent too many years keeping his cards close to his chest - but by the time they reached the capital, he was so used to Yassen's quirks and living in close quarters, just the two of them, that it came as a shock to be surrounded by other people again.

He stuck close to Yassen as they picked a path through the tourists visiting the Washington monument until he caught sight of familiar red curls glowing in the early afternoon sun and broke into a run.

"I missed you," Alex said, muffled against Jack's cardigan, as they crashed into each other just outside the ring of flags.

"Missed you too," she said, clinging to him a little longer before holding him at arm's length to look him over. "You have to tell me everything."

She caught sight of Yassen over his shoulder, approaching at a slower pace, and narrowed her eyes at him. He raised a nonchalant eyebrow in return.

Alex looked between them and rolled his eyes, dragging them both to a clear patch of grass where they could sit down with their supermarket sandwiches and ignoring the tension as he caught up with Jack.

While they were talking, Yassen stayed silent, letting himself fade into the background. He concentrated on tearing off little pieces of his sandwich, and carefully didn't examine too closely his feelings of… jealousy? Nope. Of course, Alex was so comfortable with the American woman, he'd frequently referred to her as his best friend or his big sister. Their relationship was completely different, and it was years in the making. He shouldn't be comparing himself.

He sighed anyway.

"I'm sorry, are we boring you?" Jack snapped at him.

"Not at all," he said quickly, cursing himself for the slip-up. "Carry on with… whatever."

The full force of her glare was unnerving.

"Are you sure you're ready for this? My Pop's been doing much better lately, maybe we should rethink this? Looking after a teenager is quite a commitment. And I know what you espionage types are like, always one foot out the door."

"You know what Ian Rider was like," Yassen corrected. "And I've already been looking after him for the past few weeks, anyway. I like doing it. He's no trouble."

"Then clearly you don't know him that well. Alex is always trouble."

"Hey!" Alex protested.

"You may have a point," Yassen conceded, ignoring him. "But I'm coping just fine."

"Uh-huh," she drawled. "Even when Tom Harris gets thrown into the mix?"

There was a beat. "Well. It's not so bad."

"Not so bad, he says. Just you wait. There was this one time with the pigeons and the-"

"You don't need to tell him about that!" Alex interrupted. "That happened ages ago."

"I think you mean only four months, Al."

Yassen shifted to a more comfortable pose, sensing a story. "Tell me more."

* * *

_6 months later_

Alex shut the door behind him and shrugged his schoolbag off in the hallway.

"Hey, I'm home," he called when he didn't hear any movement from further within the apartment. He waited a bit, but Yassen didn't return the greeting.

He wasn't panicking yet, but - Well, for all Yassen liked to caution against it, they had a routine. Sure, the man's shifts varied, but they generally knew each other's schedule pretty well, and somehow they'd slipped into little domestic rituals as well, even if it was just a quick _hello_ when Alex got back from school. So now he padded down the hallway as silently as he knew how (almost useless since he'd already made his presence known, but old habits die hard) and into the living room.

The sight that met him seemed like something out of the Twilight Zone: Yassen, fast asleep on the couch, in the middle of the day. He wasn't outright snoring, but his face was as loose and relaxed as Alex had ever seen it.

Alex gave himself a moment to appreciate it, and then grabbed snacks and his homework and waited for Yassen to wake up.

He was knee-deep in French pronouns when he glanced over and saw Yassen's eyes open and staring at him. He jumped; the transition from asleep to awake had been flawlessly imperceptible, and he had no idea how long ago it had happened.

"Hey," Alex tried again.

"I didn't hear you come in," Yassen said instead of answering.

"Nope," Alex grinned. "Age must be catching up to you. No more living on four hours a night."

Yassen hadn't done that consistently in a while; some days, he liked to sleep in even later than Alex, and the teenager was hardly a morning person himself, not counting the times where nightmares forced him to be.

"I have the night shift later," Yassen tried, not that he was fooling anyone.

"Yeah, yeah. It's ok, you can admit it, you fell asleep because you were bored here without my scintillating company."

"Har har," Yassen answered with sarcasm of his own. "You're right, the peace and quiet was such a tragedy."

"Uh-huh," Alex smirked. "You know, maybe we should get a dog so you're not alone here."

"We're not getting a dog," Yassen said flatly. It was an argument they'd had many, many times. Between school for Alex and Yassen's job as a helicopter paramedic, not to mention living in a small apartment in the middle of London, it just wasn't practical, but that didn't stop Alex from trying.

"One day," Alex threatened. "One day you'll see what a great idea it is."

"Dr. Three called," Yassen said, changing the subject before Alex could turn on the puppy eyes. "Asked if I'd discussed the benefits of taking science A-levels with you yet."

Alex snorted. "Have you told him I want to take Drama?"

"God, no," Yassen said. "He'd probably send itching powder in the post. Or something worse."

Alex grinned. He enjoyed acting, but when he fantasized about a successful future career, it wasn't about winning the Oscars. He only wanted just enough recognition to make everyone who had used him pale when they saw him onscreen. Sure, he might take Physics as well, but he had a good feeling about the future. And between Alex's inheritance and Yassen's blood money - though he preferred not to touch that if he could manage it - he had the luxury of trying.

Retirement suited them both. Yassen had taken the medical qualifications - all genuine - that he'd presented to the court, and combined that with his deep-rooted love of helicopters by joining the Air Ambulance, where the work was fast-paced, but with the sort of team he'd never had a chance to settle into with Scorpia. And he took pleasure in the irony that he was now saving lives.

Meanwhile, Alex had thrown himself whole-heartedly into being a Normal Teenager™, at least until his damn personality got in the way of that, and he figured that whatever his idea of normal was, it wasn't working for him. There was no way he was going back to MI6, and as for what he wanted to do instead?

He had time to figure it out.


End file.
